


Is This Cost or Is It Reward

by Snickfic



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Pre-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Sex Work, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 09:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: “Were you looking to buy?” Gamora asked. She sounded bored. She wasn’t, though; Nebula saw it in the stillness of her hand draped over her thigh, ruffling the edge of her skirt. She was dressed all in silver, shiny stuff that caught the green of her skin and the red of her hair and reflected it back again.





	Is This Cost or Is It Reward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/gifts).

> Here's some canon divergence space hooker fic, if you are into that! No worries if not. <33333

Nebula almost missed her. If Nebula had been looking just a few degrees more forward, if a sound to her left had caught her attention—but no. She did glance towards the little plaza, and she did see a flash of green skin so familiar that it took her a couple more strides to even realize what she’d seen. Then she strode back, heedless of timelines or deadlines, and looked again.

It was her. It was Gamora, lounging there with her legs sprawled wide, her gaze heavy-lidded and expectant. Vaguely Nebula was aware of others displayed similarly, but Nebula had no use for them; they might as well not have been there at all. She stood a moment longer, caught by the sight like a spearfish on a line, and then she shook herself free and reeled herself in, closer: to Gamora.

She’d cut her hair. Now it was buzzed to skin around the sides and spiky on top. It was all just red, none of it long enough to have begun to fade. It was disorienting, and Nebula suddenly wasn’t sure how she’d recognized her at all.

“What are you doing here?” Nebula demanded. 

Gamora looked up at last. The widening of her eyes was minute; no one but Nebula could have seen it. She lifted her chin, as haughty as she’d ever been. “I’m doing business.”

“Father—”

“He’s no father of mine,” Gamora said, and a chill passed through Nebula, a sharp, seizing sensation, like a short. 

“Gamora—”

“Were you looking to buy?” Gamora asked. She sounded bored. She wasn’t, though; Nebula saw it in the stillness of her hand draped over her thigh, ruffling the edge of her skirt. She was dressed all in silver, shiny stuff that caught the green of her skin and the red of her hair and reflected it back again. 

“Why are you _here_,” Nebula growled. Her hands were in fists. There was no reason for Gamora to be here. Nebula would make it a fight if she had to. At long last, she’d bring Gamora home.

Gamora looked her in the eye. “I’m trying new things.”

“You’re trying this? Whoring?” Fury welled in her, hot, comforting, constant, but it was glazed over with sheer amazement.

“I’m trying lots of things.” Gamora kept on looking, looking—when had Nebula ever been so interesting to her? Even in the ring she was only ever an obstacle, worthy of attention only until Gamora overcame it—which she always did. Abruptly, Gamora said, “I’ll show you.”

“Show me what?” Nebula said foolishly. Gamora raised her eyebrows until her meaning stole over Nebula, like shame. Deep in Nebula’s chest, near her artificial lung, something clicked: _tick-tick-tick_. She looked at Gamora, her hair, the vee of her legs hidden behind a fall of silver fringe, and her sluggish engine-oil blood pumped a little faster. “How much,” she gritted out.

Surprise flashed in Gamora’s eyes and was gone so quickly it might have Nebula’s imagination. Coolly Gamora named a price.

Thanos laughed at the idea of money, but his children walked in the world, flew ships that ran on fuel, and so they gathered enough to get themselves where they needed to go. Some kept their accounts in a data card; Nebula kept hers under her skin. She held Gamora’s gaze as she pressed buttons in her wrist and finally held it out for Gamora to scan.

Transaction complete, Gamora said, “This way.” She rose on long, green legs and walked towards the back of the plaza, her silver fringe swinging and flashing against her thighs. She pushed aside a curtain of vines and little yellow flowers. Nebula followed into her what felt like a garden, their way a winding path through walls grown up from the ground. It smelled of dirt and living things.

It was loathsome, filthy. Nebula cringed away from a vine rustling in some non-existent breeze.

Gamora brushed aside another curtain, and Nebula found herself in a little alcove. A bed took up most of it, dressed in pale blue sheets. A fountain tinkled in the floor. A near-imperceptible hum whined in Nebula’s teeth; she traced its source to a noise dampener mostly hidden behind a hanging flower.

“Well,” Gamora said, sitting on the bed. She pulled her lips back in a smile, showing her teeth. Nebula looked at them and at the darker green of the skin around Gamora’s bare feet, and she clenched her fists. She found she couldn’t meet Gamora’s eyes anymore.

“This was a mistake,” she said, turning for the exit.

A hand caught her wrist. “Wait.” Gamora came to stand in front of her. Nebula eyed the swinging fringe and set her jaw and said nothing. “Wait,” Gamora repeated. She squeezed Nebula’s wrist—she could have broken it easily, while Nebula stood there doing nothing—and she leaned up and kissed Nebula’s jaw. It was a brush of the lips, nothing more. Soft. Pointless.

“What are you doing?” Nebula said.

“Showing you,” Gamora whispered. Her breath was warm on Nebula’s skin. She let go of Nebula’s wrist and cupped Nebula’s face in her hands. Just a twist and she’d break Nebula’s neck.

She put her mouth on Nebula’s mouth. Here she felt even softer. Her lips gave way, opening to Nebula. After a moment, Gamora retreated. That soft, pointless, meaningless touch was gone. “You’re too stiff,” she said. 

Nebula snorted and tugged away from her. “Well, you always did know better than me,” she said, scoffing. Her stomach was tight with the disappointment of a hope she hadn’t even realized she had. She knew better than hope, and yet here she was. Again she turned to go.

“_Wait_,” Gamora said, some of the gentleness gone. For the first time, she sounded like Nebula’s sister. Gamora grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Gamora’s mouth was pinched with irritation. “I just mean, it’s more enjoyable if you relax.”

“Enjoyable,” Nebula repeated, incredulous. “You think I came here for _pleasure_?”

She’d surprised Gamora again. That was two times or maybe three, just in the past half-hour—more than she’d done in that last year before Gamora vanished without a trace. “Then why?” Gamora asked.

Nebula stared at her, mute, furious. The answer roiled in her; there were no words for it. She choked out, “You _left_.”

Gamora searched Nebula’s face. There was something in her expression Nebula didn’t recognize. Gamora approached again, slowly, signalling all her moves as if Nebula might startle and run—or as if she might attack, cornered. But Nebula did neither; she stood utterly still except for a tremble in her bionic hand. Gamora squeezed Nebula’s shoulder and kissed her again. “Never mind,” Gamora said. “You don’t have to do anything. Let me.”

And so Nebula kept on standing still as Gamora caught kisses from her mouth, one by one. She stiffened when Gamora’s hand brushed the zipper of her vest, but she didn’t move, and after a moment Gamora unzipped her and pulled the vest free. Gamora kept returning to Nebula’s mouth, and her lips were—very soft. Yielding, so unlike Gamora, but doggedly persistent, which was Gamora to her very core.

Somehow, Gamora stripped her bare, piece by piece, without Nebula making a noise of protest. She wanted to see what Gamora did next, she told herself. She wanted to know the full measure of whatever Gamora thought she was showing her, just so Nebula could know exactly how stupid it was. 

What Gamora did next, when Nebula stood before her without a piece of armor or weaponry except what was built in, was tug Nebula to the bed and bend in to put her mouth on Nebula’s nipple. 

It was like static electricity. For a moment Nebula thought Gamora had shocked her. But no, that was Gamora’s tongue on the peak of Nebula’s breast. “What are you doing?” Nebula asked. The question had no strength behind it.

“Showing you,” Gamora said. She thumbed across Nebula’s other nipple. “Is it good? Do you like it?”

Nebula stared down at Gamora’s spiked hair. This close, she could smell whatever substance made it stand up that way.

Did she _like_ it.

Gamora looked up. Was that the cost or the reward, Gamora staring at her so intently? Gamora’s attention had never been so cheap before—only a few thousand units. “You can undress me if you want,” Gamora said. She reached for Nebula’s hands and brought them to the back of her neck. There was a clasp there. Gamora had stopped kissing Nebula and touching her; she waited, apparently willing to stand there indefinitely if Nebula didn’t do what she wanted. Typical.

Nebula unhooked the clasp. The sharp inhale of Gamora’s breath was—gratifying, somehow. Nebula dropped her hands lower and unhooked this next clasp, and the next. It would have been easier if she could have seen them, but then she couldn’t have felt Gamora’s gaze on her face. She couldn’t have felt the swell of Gamora’s belly against hers with each breath.

The back of Gamora’s little silver dress fell open. Gamora still didn’t move, so Nebula slid the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, and now Gamora bent her elbows and pulled her hands out, and then she took hold of the dress and slipped the whole thing over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. 

Nebula had looked at Gamora’s body plenty of times—after training, after a spar. Not after a fight, because Nebula was always marched off to the cybersurgeon after those. Still, she knew Gamora’s body, the angle of her hips; the indent of her navel, because Gamora’s species had live births. She’d never been so close to it before. She’d seen the silver-green lines that arced along her hipbones, but she’d never touched them. Now she did, brushing her thumbs across them.

She’d seen fucking, too. In the communal bunk room, she’d often seen Proxima rutting with one or another of their sisters. She’d watched videos shipside a few times when she was bored; she always turned them off feeling repulsed.

Gamora still hadn’t moved. “If you’re waiting for me to do something,” Nebula said, “you’re going to wait a long time.”

Inexplicably, Gamora smiled. It wasn’t the teeth-baring smile from earlier; it was something else. Unfamiliar. “Do you want to touch me?” she asked. “Or do you want me to touch you?”

“I don’t _know_,” Nebula said. But her hands were still on Gamora’s hips. It was easy to follow the crease of her hip to her thatch of dark red hair, and then beyond that to that secret place she’d never seen. Gamora flinched against her as she touched something damp. Nebula jerked back her hand.

“No,” Gamora said sharply. She gripped Nebula’s wrist before she could get far. “Just, not too rough. Please.”

“Then what?”

“Just—just touch me.” Gamora brought Nebula’s hand back to herself.

So Nebula touched her. She found that slick place between Gamora’s legs and stroked along it. She felt Gamora’s every minute shiver. And then, farther back, she found Gamora’s cunt. It was slicker yet, and Gamora grunted when Nebula pressed her finger up into it. “Is that good?” Nebula said. The answer mattered to her, she realized. She wanted it to be good. She wanted Gamora to remember it, after.

So of course Gamora didn’t answer. “Do you want to see?” she said, shifting backwards, so that Nebula’s finger slipped out of her. Gamora sat on the bed, and then over onto her back, her knees bent, her feet firmly planted wide enough that there were no secrets left.

She was dark green, there. She was arranged in shiny-damp folds. She lay patiently, letting Nebula look, letting her kneel between Gamora’s legs and thumb over the creased flesh that grew wetter the longer Nebula explored it. “What do you want?” Nebula asked, nearly choking on the words. “Just tell me what you want.”

Gamora looked at her a long moment. Then she stretched to reach under the bed and came out with a tube. She sat up and squirted something clear and slick on Nebula’s hand. “Just keep touching me,” she said. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

Nebula’s fingers glided more easily along Gamora now. Gamora’s directions were simple: _higher_ or _deeper_ or _right there_. Her breath started coming quicker, sharper, and finally she said, “Now put your fingers in—yes, two of them, like that—yes—_yes_.” She clenched around Nebula’s fingers, over and over, weakening until at last she lay limply on the bed, eyes half-shut. Nebula felt her pulse in her inner thigh, rapid-fire.

Nebula pulled her fingers out, and Gamora’s eyes landed on her. Gamora pushed up to a seat, not quite coordinated—another reason fucking was a mistake. She caught Nebula’s hand, seemingly uncaring with how it was slick with wetness from the tube and wetness from herself. “Now, what do you want?” Gamora said.

Nebula didn’t know the answer until the words were already out. “I want you to come home.”

Gamora’s face crumpled as if Nebula had found nerve and dug her thumb into it. “Nebula, I can’t.”

“You’ve always been his favorite. He’ll take you back.”

Gamora was already shaking her head. “I can’t be that person anymore, Nebula. I can’t do what he wants.”

“You mean the person I am.”

“Nebula,” Gamora said, again, as if she’d just finally noticed who she was fucking. She got up on her knees and cupped the back of Nebula’s neck and kissed her. “I’m sorry, sister,” she said into Nebula’s mouth. She kissed Nebula like she wanted to eat her. She caught Nebula’s lip between her teeth and let her go again. She dug her fingers into Nebula’s ribs, and in those seconds ticking past in Nebula’s chest, she was certain Gamora tasted and heard and felt only her. Gamora wanted only her.

Gamora let go of Nebula long enough to find the zipper in Nebula’s pants and tug them open. “Off,” she said, pulling at the waistband. So Nebula climbed off the bed long enough to wiggle out of her pants, and then Gamora was right there, massaging Nebula through her underwear.

Nebula was overheating there. She hadn’t noticed the malfunction until now. Somehow the cool touch of Gamora’s fingers only made her hotter. “Have you ever come?” Gamora asked. “Have you ever touched yourself, and come?”

“It seemed pointless,” Nebula said. But it wasn’t now, with Gamora’s gaze burning into her and Gamora’s fingers brushing over her. It seemed the entire point. 

A building tension in Nebula’s gut suddenly spilled over. Her stomach muscles seized with a peculiar, foreign pleasure. Sensation washed over her. Unfamiliar muscles contracted, some very near Gamora’s hand. “Oh,” Nebula gasped. She leaned into Gamora, waiting for the strangeness to pass. She rested her forehead on Gamora’s shoulder.

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” Gamora said, stroking Nebula’s head. She’d stroked Nebula’s head like that once or twice, when they were very small, when Nebula had just come to Sanctuary and was given to crying.

“Will you come back now?” Nebula knew it was futile, even as she asked it.

Gamora’s hand paused. After a moment, the stroking resumed. “Give me your locator key. I’ll find you again.”

Nebula shifted away at last. “You’re not staying here?”

Gamora’s mouth twisted in a kind of smile. “I told you, I’m trying new things. I’ll move on to the next one soon.”

“Will you remember this?” Nebula blurted, and snapped her mouth shut in shame.

Gamora was silent for a long moment. Finally she reached out and squeezed Nebula’s hand. “Yes, sister. I’ll remember.”


End file.
